


Cranes

by chasingriver



Series: The DI and the Spy [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Birthday Party, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, M/M, Mystrade fluff, Papa Lestrade Day, Paternal Lestrade, Siblings, Uncle-Niece Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 14:36:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1782526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingriver/pseuds/chasingriver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg is a fantastic uncle. Mycroft does his best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cranes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WastingYourGum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WastingYourGum/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [Cranes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2285154) by [onpu1234](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onpu1234/pseuds/onpu1234)



> For wastingyourgum, in thanks for her tireless dedication to gravesdiggers!  
> 
> 
>  

“They don’t bite,” Greg said.

“I’ve been reliably informed that they do.”

“Not at this age.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes and looked put-upon.

“Oh, don’t start,” Greg said. “I won’t drag you if you really don’t want to go.”

“Are you sure you have to be there?”

“You’re joking, right? It’s her eighth birthday. If ‘Uncle Greg’ isn’t there, there’ll be hell to pay. C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“Is this some definition of the word ‘fun’ of which I was previously unaware?”

Greg sighed. “Look, don’t come if you’re going to sulk.” He looked around the living room, frowning. “Do you remember where I put her present? I should have put it in a bigger box.”

“Are you sure she’s old enough for an iPad?”

“Ha! She’ll probably be better with it than I am.”

“Wouldn’t take much,” Mycroft mumbled under his breath. Then he added, “I think it’s in the bedroom.”

“Oi, I heard that,” Greg said as he strode down the hall. “Oh yeah, here it is.”

The slim box was wrapped in shiny mylar, covered with holographic stars. “I think if you point this at planes, it’s a criminal offence,” Greg joked.

Mycroft gave him a blank look.

“Like a laser pointer. You know, blinding the pilots?” He trailed off with a small sigh. “Never mind. Look, I know you don’t like kids—”

“I never said that.”

“Well, I know kids make you nervous—”

Mycroft tilted his head in grudging acknowledgement.

“—but against all reason, Katie worships the ground you walk on. She’d be devastated if you don’t come.”

“It’s not her I’m worried about; it’s the ten other screaming bundles of energy. They can smell fear.”

Greg gave him a weary smile and a quick kiss. “I’ll be back around six, love. I’ll tell her you said hello.” As he grabbed his phone and keys, Mycroft got out of his chair.

“Wait. I’ll come.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You sure?”

“I can ignore the other ten. I haven’t seen her in ages.”

Greg beamed. “Thanks, love. She’ll be thrilled.”

When they pulled into the driveway of Greg’s sister’s house, Katie ran out to meet them. Greg could barely get out of the car before she wrapped herself around him in a big hug and squeezed him so tightly he wondered if he would have bruised ribs afterwards.

“Yay! You came!”

“Of course I came!”

“Mum said you might have to work or something.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t miss this for all the dead bodies in London,” he said, giving her a huge smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mycroft suppressing a grin. He'd explained to Katie what a ‘policeman’ was last year, and she thought it was ‘brilliant’. He was careful to leave out any overly-traumatising details. “Happy birthday!” he said, beaming. “You having a good day?”

“The best! Hi, Uncle Mikey!”

Greg was positive she was the only person in England—no, anywhere—who could get away with calling him that. It was a high honour, indeed.

Mycroft smiled. “Hello, Katie. Happy Birthday.” He’d known her since she was five and had grown quite fond of her over the years, but he’d never been comfortable interacting with children. He tended to treat them like miniature adults.

As they got out of the car, Katie said, “Wanna see what we learnt in gymnastics?” and, without waiting for a reply, proceeded to do a front flip on the small patch of grass.

“Woah! That’s amazing!” Greg gushed. Even Mycroft looked impressed. “I don’t know how you manage that,” he said. He certainly couldn’t have done it, not even in his old footballing days.

“Can I ride on your shoulders?”

“Yep!” He pulled her up, grabbing her legs to steady her as she squealed with glee. His back would hate him tomorrow, but it was worth it. They headed inside, Katie ducking as they went through the front door.

“Mum, Mum, look who’s here!”

Janice walked out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a tea-towel. “Glad you could make it,” she said. “Nice to see you, Mycroft.”

It was just her and Katie; her dad had walked out on them when she was two, and Janice had raised her alone. She hadn’t always been the best sister—it had taken her years to accept ‘the gay thing’—but she was a good mum, and Katie was a lovely, well-adjusted child.

“Thanks for having us. When do the hordes get here?” Greg said.

“Half an hour. There’ll be eight more. The twins are down with a cold.”

“Put me down, Uncle Greg. I wanna show you what Mum got me.”

Katie came back with some sketchbooks and a huge set of art supplies.

Greg gave his sister an approving smile. It was the perfect gift; Katie loved to draw and was really good at it. “Oh, those’ll be great, yeah?”

She flipped open one of the books and showed him a drawing of her with her mum. “I did this one this morning. Like it?”

“It’s fantastic. Is it going on the fridge?” He glanced up at Janice—it was as much a question for her as it was for Katie.

“It’s already full, sweetie. I don’t think any more will fit.”

“Oh, I’m sure we can make it work. Come on, sunshine, let’s see what we can do, shall we?”

Janice gave him an exasperated look as they headed into the kitchen. He could hear her making small-talk with Mycroft in the other room.

They’d just finished rearranging the pictures when the first of her friends arrived—early. There was some excited jumping up and down, but it wasn’t too bad. When the rest of them arrived, there was enough squealing to power a small nuclear reactor.

Mycroft had long since planted himself in a chair in the living room and gave Greg a valiant smile at the high-pitched excitement.

Janice was still icing the cake and told Greg to entertain them for a bit. He got his handcuffs and warrant card out of his coat and said, “Who wants to play ‘Scotland Yard’?” He showed them how to work the handcuffs and they eagerly started arresting each other.

“What the hell, Greg?” Janice called from the kitchen. “You know that wasn’t what I meant.”

He smirked at Mycroft, who chuckled. “What?” he replied. “They’re having fun.”

After the cake came the presents. Greg gave her the iPad, which drew reverent gasps from the girls and a ‘you spoil her’ from Janice. He’d set it up beforehand so she could use it to send him text messages. He wasn’t surprised to find she was better at typing than he was. His phone started buzzing with texts, each one a smiley of some sort, and each accompanied by a loud giggle as she sent it. It might have been a bad idea, setting this up; it was a good thing he had unlimited text messages on his phone.

Their excitement with the presents and the iPad waned after a while, and they started to come down from their sugar high. There was still a half hour to go before they got picked up, and a few of them were starting to whine. Things were going to get ugly unless someone intervened.

Greg wracked his brain for ideas, but they’d lost their enthusiasm for running around and he wasn’t sure what else to do. No one wanted to be arrested anymore.

“Do you have any paper?”

“What?” Greg and Janice both said simultaneously, looking at Mycroft. He’d said almost nothing the entire afternoon, and Greg had no idea what he was up to.

“What sort of paper?” Janice asked.

“Just printer paper. Two sheets for each of them should suffice.”

“Um, yeah. All right.” She came back with a small stack and passed it around.

“Everyone needs a flat surface,” Mycroft said. “We’re going to make cranes.”

“What, like the ones at building sites?” Katie said, looking confused.

“No, they’re a type of bird.”

Greg grabbed some paper. “Hang on, I want to do this too.”

He showed them how to turn it into a square by folding it into a triangle and tearing off the extra piece. Then he slowly demonstrated each step, helping the ones who didn’t understand. Some of them caught on faster than others, and they helped as well. Miraculously, the whining stopped, replaced by questions and the occasional comment of ‘This doesn’t look like a bird.’

When it finally started to take shape, there were exclamations of ‘Woah!’ and ‘Oh, I see it!’

“Now,” said Mycroft, “you have to be really gentle with this part so you don’t tear it.” They all nodded, intensely serious. He held the wings and pulled on them so the body puffed out, then held it up with a triumphant smile. “Now you do it.”

The room filled with expressions of glee as the birds all took shape. Some of them weren’t as tidy and exacting as Mycroft’s, but they all looked like birds and each of the girls seemed thrilled. Even Janice looked impressed.

“I wanna do it again,” one of the girls said, and there was a chorus of agreement. They finished making the second set just as the parents started to arrive.

“What if I can’t remember how to do it later?” one of them asked.

“I’m sure it’s on the internet,” Mycroft replied.

Janice glared at him and hissed, “They’re too young for the internet.” Then she added, in a normal voice, “You can have your parents look it up for you.”

Mycroft looked at him and shrugged, and Greg snickered.

The girls babbled excitedly about their origami cranes as they left. They were an even bigger hit than the handcuffs, although those merited a few mentions as well; Greg caught Janice cringing every time she heard the word. It was a good thing Katie was so fond of him, or Janice probably wouldn’t invite him to the next birthday. Still, by then she’d probably be too old for ‘Scotland Yard’ and paper birds.

When they got in the car to drive home, Greg turned to Mycroft and said, “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“My father taught me when I was a child.”

“Well, that too, but I was talking about handling eight-year-olds.”

“I’m afraid that might be the limit of my expertise.”

“It’s still bloody impressive. You really earned your ‘Uncle Mikey’ today.”

Mycroft beamed. “Thanks. You’re so good with her; that sort of thing doesn’t come naturally for me.”

“Which makes what you did all the more impressive. I’ll make us dinner tonight—whatever you want.”

“How about that manicotti you do? I love that.”

“You’re on. Thanks for coming today; it meant a lot.”

“It went better than I expected.”

“A bomb could have gone off and it would have gone better than you expected,” Greg deadpanned.

Mycroft chuckled.

As they pulled onto the main road, Greg said, “So, do you know how to make any other paper animals?”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to find me on tumblr, I'm [chasingriversong](http://chasingriversong.tumblr.com).


End file.
